


Absolutely Not!  Well, Maybe...

by The_Bentley



Series: Cold Open Fictions [4]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Arguing, Arthurian, Arthurian England, Best Friends, Character Development, Developing Friendships, Drama, Epic Friendship, Episode: s01e03 Hard Times, Episode: s03e01 The Arrangement, Friendship, Holy Grail, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), Light Angst, M/M, Middle Ages, Plans, Pre-Relationship, Temptation, The Arrangement (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-22
Updated: 2019-07-28
Packaged: 2020-07-11 14:08:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19929316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Bentley/pseuds/The_Bentley
Summary: There are two sides to every argument, but what if, upon further reflection, your opponent’s starts to look very tempting?  Who wouldn’t want to just stay home and not have to go running around in damp places playing knight errant in a heavy suit of armour?  Or is Aziraphale just letting Crowley tempt him into laziness?  Maybe there’s some Arrangement they can come to.A continuation of the Arthurian England vignette from the TV show’s third episode cold open.





	1. Planting an Idea

**Author's Note:**

> As all the stories in this series, it'll be three chapters of a thousand words each. Enjoy! (Date and place are stuck in the notes so they don't count towards the thousand words. I know . . . that might be cheating, but whatever.)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _He was thinking too much about what Crowley had said upon their last meeting. About how they were just canceling each other out with the good deeds and bad ones. He made an awful lot of sense and that concerned Aziraphale something terrible. When the demon made sense, worry._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Kingdom of Wessex, 537 A.D._

Aziraphale dismounted, leaving his white steed for the stable groom to take care of with a words of thanks, then headed off with his squire to his chambers within the manor he was currently stationed.

The young man proceeded to help Aziraphale out of the heavy, hated armour, placing all of it on the rack designed especially to store it. It wasn’t particularly dirty this time so didn’t require a polish before being stored. The heavy cloak that so resembled angel wings when draped over the shoulders of his armour was hung nearby on a peg. 

“Anything else, my lord?”

“Please stop addressing me by that. I will require some supper if you would be so kind,” Aziraphale replied. “Have it brought up to my chambers and I don’t think I’ll need you again tonight. Thank you.”

He winced every time someone addressed him as “my lord.” “Sire” was bad enough, but he could tolerate that. Hierarchy was something Aziraphale had little interest in because among angels rank had no meaning beyond determining who your direct supervisors were. 

He sat before the lit fireplace, very glad someone came along to stoke it before he got back to the manor. The Dark Ages weren’t all they were cracked up to be. He rather enjoyed civilizations that offered more than the crude level of living that this age did. Rome had indoor plumbing and the Chinese, advanced sericulture. These people could barely manage a castle that wasn’t too drafty. This stupid mission couldn’t end soon enough for him. He’d head back to someplace where human innovation hadn’t taken several large steps backward.

It wasn’t long before food and drink was brought up to him. He thanked the servant who did, looking at what had been placed in front of him – roasted game, bread and some cheese. Tiresome. Rough. Not the fare he was used to, but he was going to have to put up with it for now. He had performed quite a few miracles lately so Head Office would be noticing if he continued in that vein.

Technically he didn’t require sustenance but he did have to appear human. He nibbled at it a little but left three-fourths there on the table beside him. The servants who kept up his chambers knew they were more than welcome to take any leftovers of his. 

He was thinking too much about what Crowley had said upon their last meeting. About how they were just canceling each other out with the good deeds and bad ones. He made an awful lot of sense and that concerned Aziraphale something terrible. When the demon made sense, worry.

Best not to think about it. 

The only problem was that he _was_. It was just so intriguing. Why waste his time if he was playing a zero-sum game? It was true that the vast majority of the time when he went somewhere to do a good deed, he ran into Crowley. Almost every single time. 

And the weather here _was_ rather damp. Who wants to be out in that when they didn’t have to be?

Yet…. Aziraphale sighed, standing up to go look out the small slit in the stone that passed for a window in these parts. The wind whistled through it, chilling the front of him while his back felt the heat from the fire. It would be nice to skip it all and stay warm.

No. 

Crowley was trying to tempt him; that was not going to work. They might be more lax in Hell, but Aziraphale’s superiors checked. Besides, he had never lied. He was always scrupulous in his reports. Sometimes he left some things out, like encounters with Crowley, but Gabriel asked for updates on his work. He didn’t ask about who he happened to be running into while he was out performing miracles and blessings.

The angel moved away from the tiny window as the chill got to him. Back by the fire, he warmed his hands. The thought of conjuring up a nice mug of mulled wine was extremely tempting, but he didn’t. Better to inconvenience the servants than upset his boss.

His squire came in immediately, leaving just as quickly with his request. Having servants always made him feel awkward. Aziraphale had standards, but those didn’t include being waited on hand and foot, yet he was especially grateful for the stable grooms. He had no clue what to do when it came to the care and feeding of a horse. All he could manage was riding one in the most rudimentary way possible. 

But to not have to ride one as often.

Absolutely not. These thoughts had to stop right now.

“Damn you, Crowley,” he muttered before realizing that really wasn’t going to work. 

The hot mulled wine arrived and Aziraphale sipped it sitting at his desk penning reports. What to say about the Black Knight? “The Black Knight has turned out to be the demon Crowley spreading discord and foment” wouldn’t cut it. He could put in that his latest encounter with the Black Knight ended in a victory. It wasn’t a lie. He did win out against Crowley’s stab at tempting him into becoming lazy about his job.

Who was he kidding? It was a lie. Yet, there he was on the “battlefield” playing holier-than-thou with his whole “that would be lying” speech to the demon. 

He could leave the Black Knight out of it. Omissions weren’t lies. Omissions protected them. He didn’t mind the demon so much even though he was on the Other Side. For the most part he did the minimum required of him, spending little time sowing major seeds of evil. It was better to deal with Crowley’s brand of mischief than some demon who was a nasty piece of work.

No, he had to include him. Aziraphale sighed as he wrote a report where his negotiations with the Black Knight ended in a stalemate. That’s all Gabriel really needed to know after all. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale's cloak is supposed to represent angel wings, according to the costume designer.
> 
> The armour they're using is historically inaccurate, according to a history buff friend of mine. They would have been running around in just chain mail instead, but since it's in the vignette, I left it as full suits of armour.
> 
> Michael Sheen said in an interview that the armour was really fun to wear at first, but after a couple of takes it gets heavy and you just want to get the scene done so you can get out of it. :)


	2. Encouraging Growth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Their respective Head Offices didn’t care how things got done, just that they got done. If he had to head off to some estate in the western part England to tempt some manor lord into destroying his neighbor’s crops and Aziraphale had to be in the same area to perform a miracle at a wedding or something, why couldn’t just one of them go?_
> 
> Crowley's hatched the Arrangement, now he has to convince Aziraphale it's a good idea. He just might have a bit of a bribe to help persuade the angel to see things his way.

The abandoned castle Crowley had taken over now teemed with busyness as the few men he actually had recruited to his cause performed their duties, doing all they could to appear to be a greater number then they truly were. Crowley at this point didn’t care much if they were invaded. The men could take care of themselves while he had the ability to exit stage right immediately with a snap of his fingers.

He was bored. Bored with assignments. Bored with filling reports up with lies about this stupid assignment. Bored with Aziraphale’s absolutely prissy attitude towards fudging it a little. Considering what he remembered of Gabriel, Crowley figured he had his handsome head so far up his own arse he wouldn’t know if Aziraphale was actually telling the truth. Earth was an afterthought for the Archangels. If they hadn’t noticed how much their field agent actually hung around with him by now, they wouldn’t notice some white lies on reports.

But noooooo. He had to keep up the useless shenanigans because the angel refused to see the reality of the situation – nobody truly cared as long as _some_ work got done once in a while. The rest of the time you could do whatever you wanted as long as you filed the reports now and again. But Hell would start to notice if the amount of good deeds exponentially increased while his wiling dropped. Nope, the Black Knight couldn’t stay home if Sir Aziraphale wasn’t going to.

He wanted to be done with this Black Knight charade and skip off to parts where humans were causing trouble he could take credit for. The Byzantine Empire had its share of military campaigns going on. The Gauls were busy out there laying waste to whatever crossed their path. All kinds of good, uh, bad stuff was going on that he could pretend to have a hand in. 

He wished up some of the good wine from the days before Rome fell. The past incarnation of that city with all its hedonistic pleasures was worth it, unlike the pious days that had come to be since Rome’s gates were toppled and religion overtook innovation as the ruling faction. Much had been lost just when he was starting to think the human race quite interesting and clever. Not in this era. It would cycle around again, but he hated modernization didn’t always march forward in a linear manner.

Enough of that train of thought. He ought to be thinking of ways to get the angel to agree to his proposal. Crowley was considering that maybe the outright lying on reports while not lifting a finger wasn’t the way to go after all. He paced his chambers trying to think of a different angle. Rome. There was something he thought of and filed away while talking to Aziraphale in that restaurant in Rome long ago. 

Oh yes, Aziraphale had flippantly mentioned that maybe Crowley could do some good works if he got bored. Why not? Their respective Head Offices didn’t care _how_ things got done, just that they got done. If he had to head off to some estate in the western part England to tempt some manor lord into destroying his neighbor’s crops and Aziraphale had to be in the same area to perform a miracle at a wedding or something, why couldn’t just _one_ of them go? Why should they both waste time and travel expenses when one could get both jobs done while there? 

The angel could write his reports without lying. It wouldn’t take much. Just a little rewording. “The blessing of Lord What-His-Face’s wedding went off without a hitch. The alliance between his family and his bride’s should produce several generations’ worth of peace.” He didn’t have to mention he didn’t happen to _personally_ do the blessing.

It was brilliant if Crowley said so himself. Now if Aziraphale could see it as the bit of inspired genius it was.

He sat down before the fireplace a moment, staring into the flames. The Knights of the Table Round were searching for something, weren’t they? Something important. Something religious. If he could remember what it was. Memories sometimes jumbled up inside his head due to having entirely too many of the buggers. They did go back all the way to before Time when he was first Created. It was frustrating when he could remember Heaven, but not something that happened a mere fifty years ago.

He stared at his drink for a moment. A wine jug? A platter? A plate? No, the cup Christ used at the Last Supper. How could he forget that? A whole legend had arisen swirling around that damn thing, some of it true. Both Heaven and Hell decided that to have a cup that could give eternal life out there was entirely too dangerous. Unfortunately for Heaven, Crowley was a servant at the Last Supper and nabbed it before the angel in charge of procuring it was able to. What was circulating out there masquerading as the Holy Grail was actually the cup Saint Peter used. Crowley having grabbed it, put that beside the plate Christ had used after pocketing the real one. That one was stored in Heaven while Gabriel and his thugs found it fun to send humans on a wild goose chase for a mythical version to prove their devotion. Tossers.

With a gesture, he pulled it out of the bubble dimension he had stored it in. Holding the humble chalice there in his hand, he sank deep into thought. A worthy bribe, perhaps? Humans weren’t supposed to have immortality. That was the realm of supernatural beings. It would be a feather in Aziraphale’s wing if he was to present the _real_ Grail to his superiors. Or would Aziraphale just become upset that Crowley had been in possession of the relic all this time? 

Either way, the Grail in exchange for a trial run of his proposition might well be worth it.


	3. Coming to Fruition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“But what if we had assignments in the same area, only one of us went and did both jobs.”_
> 
> _The angel’s blue eyes widened in shock. “I can’t believe you’re suggesting that. As if your previous suggestion wasn’t cheeky enough. No, Crowley.”_

Aziraphale wouldn’t speak to Crowley for several months, merely sending back messages written by his servants stating that Sir Aziraphale was far too busy to parlay with the Black Knight at this time. Crowley did his best not to become too irritated over the angel’s childish attitude. He was certainly having one of those moments were it was hard not to hunt down the idiot and discorporate him because it would be nice to have a break from his little snits.

The demon changed tactics a bit, sending men off to ride through areas under Aziraphale’s influence. They didn’t do anything, but it was enough to make the locals nervous. They prevailed upon Aziraphale to solve the problem and a note arrived for Crowley stating a date, time and location to meet. Victory!

“Call off your men, Crowley. This little game of yours has gone far enough.” Aziraphale hadn’t bothered to even dismount as he approached the demon, who had dismounted the first chance he got.

“Can you just come down here where we can talk?”

Put out, Aziraphale got off his steed. “What about? I have nothing to say to you.”

“About sharing job duties.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

“I’m not lying on reports, Crowley.”

“I’m not asking you to. I came up with something different,” the demon replied, wishing he didn’t have to wear that heavy, black armour. It was beginning to get annoying the way it restricted his movements. “But what if we had assignments in the same area, only one of us went and did both jobs.”

The angel’s blue eyes widened in shock. “I can’t believe you’re suggesting that. As if your previous suggestion wasn’t cheeky enough. No, Crowley.”

“Why not? Nobody Upstairs or Down really cares how things get done just as long as they do. As it is, we’re spending a lot of time, effort and travel expenses helping them check things off on their To-Do Lists. We could halve that by sharing responsibilities. Less time wasted, less travel expenses, less work. Think about it. You wouldn’t have to lie on your reports about that minor miracle getting done _and_ you’d have more free time.”

The angel shifted in the way he did when he was feeling indecisive. By now, Crowley could read him like a book. He was actually considering it. The demon smiled to himself. 

“You’d rather be home by your warm fire than out here negotiating with the Black Knight, right?”

“That’s beside the point. I have a duty to these people.”

“And you’d be keeping it. You’d just be delegating some of your work to me.” 

“How are you going to do my job and be the Black Knight at the same time? It’s impossible.”

“Oh, it’s the armour that matters. Nobody notices who’s inside it. I have men who could wear it.”

Aziraphale dug a divot of turf out of the ground in front of him with his armour-covered boot. The wheels were turning. Crowley could all but see it.

“No. I can’t. What if we get caught?”

Having said that the angel turned to leave. He was most upset with how this conversation was going. Again, Crowley was making a lot of sense. Why should both of them be out and about when one could cover all angles? He shouldn’t be thinking such thoughts. If he was to do both their jobs, then he would be out there wiling. That would not be appropriate conduct for an angel at all.

Crowley could move fast in that armour. Aziraphale startled a bit to find him beside his elbow with a slight smile on his face.

“Nobody has to know. I won’t tell if you don’t. Besides,” he drawled. “I was thinking of giving up the Black Knight deal. I’m rather bored with it. I can safely pass the mantle on to one of the lads and he can take over from there. Discord, dissent and foment has been spread. I was never told _how_ much I needed to spread.”

“You’re incorrigible,” sniffed Aziraphale in his most disproving manner.

“Obviously,” Crowley paused. “I’m just asking you to try it. Once or twice. See what you think.”

With a gesture, he produced the Holy Grail. Aziraphale’s mouth fell open.

“Where the hell did you get that, Crowley? Is it the real one?”

“Indeed,” replied Crowley. “The real one I took from the table of the Last Supper. The vault in Heaven contains Peter’s cup. You can replace it with this, or go run to Gabriel with it saying you managed to pillage it from the Black Knight. Whatever your heart desires. Simply work with me here and it’s yours.”

“No! Just give it back!”

“Agree to the trial basis of the arrangement I proposed. You will benefit from it.”

“Why did you take it?” demanded Aziraphale. “It’s not yours!”

“Following orders,” replied Crowley, vanishing the Holy Grail back to its bubble dimension for now. “But I reckoned neither side deserved it, so I decided to hide it from both of them. And I was right, given how Gabriel’s playing games with the humans using the Grail myth as bait.”

“How do I know that’s not some trick of yours?”

“Don’t give me that. I know angels can feel the holiness in objects.”

Aziraphale was not quite ready to be so tempted. “But the other cup feels holy,” he insisted stubbornly. 

“The cup of a saint’s going to have a little holiness to it. This has more; you know it. It radiates holiness like nobody’s business, I bet. Tell me otherwise. Now do we have a deal or not?”

Aziraphale said the words quickly, his eyes squeezed tightly shut. “I’ll do a couple of jobs for you if you do a couple for me.”

“Done.” Crowley held out the Grail, having retrieved it again.

Aziraphale thought a moment. “You keep it. I see it’s safe in your hands.”

Surprised by this showing of trust, Crowley nodded solemnly before heading off.


End file.
